


Cape Town Slam

by rafaholic



Category: Tennis RPF
Genre: Fedal - Freeform, First Time, M/M, Porn With Plot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-07
Updated: 2020-02-07
Packaged: 2021-02-27 23:01:43
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,818
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22593718
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/rafaholic/pseuds/rafaholic
Summary: “He’s here, looking absolutely beautiful, smiling to everyone. Smiling to me. And I’m so damn screwed.”
Relationships: Roger Federer/Rafael Nadal
Comments: 12
Kudos: 70





	Cape Town Slam

When I decided to make this happen, to play an exhibition match in South Africa I knew the only one I could do this with was him. I haven’t even thought about it. It was Rafa, it had to be Rafa. Or else it would not have had any sense at all. I called him, I asked him. He said yes. Straight away. Immediately. As I had asked him to hit a down the line forehand of his. Yes. Simply. I don’t know if I have always subconsciously been in love with him. I just know in that exact moment I knew with absolutely certainty I had fallen for him. And it hadn’t been a knowledge which had shocked me. It hadn’t come to me in an emotional turmoil. It hadn’t caused any kind of doubt or pain or fear. It just had been the peaceful realization of something which I already knew but refused to accept. I ended the call and thought “oh”. And I thought “fuck”. But then I thought “finally”.

Yeah, finally I’m bold enough to think about this thing properly. I’m bold enough to tell myself it’s okay. Being in love is not a crime. Even if you’re in love with your greatest rival. 

Truth is this thing between us has always been kind of complicated. I know I’m not alone in this. I know his fingers stay on me much longer than necessary at the net, after a match. I know he looks at me. I feel it. I feel his gaze across courts, locker rooms, hotel halls. I know he has something with me. Maybe he struggles to name it as I did for so long. Maybe he’s not ready to call it by its name. But now he’s here. In South Africa. He’s here because I asked him to and I couldn’t be happier. We’ve spent all day chatting and training and signing autographs and taking photos with fans. Now the day is over and I have to show him his room. I made sure it was right next to mine cause I want him to be close and I want him to know I’m here for everything he needs.

“So, that’s your room. Nice, uh?”

“Yeah, it’s beautiful”, he says with one of his smiles and I’m every second more screwed and I take mental notes to stop acting like a teenager at his first crush.

“Yeah, well, I’m behind that door if you need something”

He follows my gaze and then looks at me more shyly. 

“Thank you, Rog”

He starts to unpack his stuff, he moves through the room like he owns that new space. I should leave but truth is I don’t want to. Not yet. He doesn’t seem to mind, though, and keeps doing everything as I wasn’t there. His hands are still covered in patches as they always are after training or matches. I stare at them and can’t help thinking about having them on me. On my arms, on my chest. On my thighs. I have to stop imagining. I can’t go on with this or I won’t be able to control myself.  
I’m trying to wake up from my trance. I’m ready to speak again, to say my goodnight and leave him to his deserved rest but he starts to remove his t-shirt, unconcerned, apparently unbothered, and that’s when I understand he knows what he’s doing.  
I come closer to him, searching in his eyes for a trace of discomfort. For a signal, a gesture, whatever makes me feel I’m getting all wrong. But I find none of them. Everything I see is a reflection of the same burning desire that’s been consuming me for months. Years maybe.

Rafa looks at me.  
He stares.  
He grabs my wrist an pulls me closer, until we’re just inches apart. Just the space of a breath between us. I lose myself in his eyes. I’m not entirely sure this is happening. It could easily be a dream. I always dream of this. This proximity.  
But then he speaks and it all turns unmistakably real.

“Don’t make me beg, Roger.”

And that’s it. I don’t even have the time to process the whole thing that I’m kissing him. His mouth against mine is so soft, so perfect. I can’t believe we waited for so long. I’m where I belong, I can feel it. It’s the most overwhelming feeling I ever experienced. I kiss him and I love it. I could go on for ever. But the soft moans escaping his lips demand more. He wants more and I’m not in the mental state to deny him anything. I want him so bad, I want to make him feel good, I want him to remember this and never be able to forget it.  
Our tongues find each other, and I’m sure we are meant to be together like this. If I had some little doubts before this night, now they’re all gone.  
I feel him rubbing slowly against my leg and my hands unconsciously find their way to his beautiful perfect ass. God knows how much I looked at it during years of shared locker rooms.  
He moans, breathing heavily on my neck. He’s driving me insane.

“I want you, Rog”, he whispers. And oh, Raf, if only you knew.

“Rafa, I...”

“Shhh, don’t talk Roger. Talk too much. Now no time to talk.”

He gently removes my hand from his ass, he kisses it and places it where he craves the most. I can feel his cock, rock hard in his jeans, and can’t control a satisfied sigh. I made him like that. Rafa Nadal’s cock is hard because of me. The thought is almost enough to make me come before even starting. 

“Fuck, Rafa. I wanted this for so long”

I unbutton his pants and start to remove them, never ceasing to kiss him. He’s now in his underpants while I’m still fully dressed and the heat starts to be unbearable. I push him on the large bed, trying not to break contact with his skin. I’m already addicted.  
He undresses me, first with his eyes, then with his hands. When I’m left in my underpants too he starts to kiss me again. Slowly. Too slowly. His tongue is drawing little circles on my neck and I can’t even think now. He owns me. 

“Show me Roger. Show me how much you wanted this.”, he says and he’s so fucking sexy I’m tempted to jump on him immediately and screw the romanticism.  
I force myself to keep control. I remove his boxers and I take him in my mouth. Firstly only the head of his cock. Then every single inch of it. He starts to pant heavily and I love the sound he makes. They’re much better than the ones he does on court. 

“Sí, Roger...”

My name out of his mouth is what turns me on the most. That soft ‘g’. The rolled ‘r’. I start to go up and down with my head, I feel him turning even harder in my mouth. I love his taste.

“Por favor...”

He’s close, I can sense it. I have to stop if I don’t want this to be over yet. I raise my head and kiss him hungrily.  
He seems to be so impatient now. He’s almost shaking with need. I love this feeling of control but I’m myself heading for my edge only looking at the sight in front of me. He’s beautiful beyond comprehension.

“Rafa, I need to be inside you now. Do you... do you want-“

“Fuck Roger, yes. I have lube in my suitcase.”

Reluctantly I get up to reach for it. I only do this cause I know it’s just necessary for this to get even better. When I come back to him I find him with his eyes closed, one hand stroking his cock and the other working his hole prepared for me.  
That’s the hottest thing I’ve ever seen in my life.  
I cover myself in lube, needy as I’ve never been before.  
I come closer to him and gently remove his hand from its work, aligning myself with his hole.  
Rafa looks at me. He’s not teasing anymore. He can sense the weight of this moment between us. We’ve waited for so long for this to happen.  
When I push inside him, slowly, the world seems to disappear.  
There’s nothing more than us, the suffocating sensation of him around me and I can’t even breathe for a moment. 

“Roger, move. Please, please, move...”

I start to thrust in him. Slowly at first, then forcefully. We’re panting messes. We’re already sweating but we couldn’t care less.

“Fuck, Raf, that’s... oh my god...”

“Sí, sí... please deeper...”

“Jesus Rafa, you feel fucking amazing...”

I can’t control myself anymore. I want to come so bad. Actually I want him to come so bad he won’t be able to forget this never in his life.

“Oh yes, that’s it, hit that point again... again...”

“Like that? Like that Rafael?” 

“Sí...”

He chants ‘yes’ and chants my name and that’s too much. I come inside him with a loud scream and he follows me soon after.  
We stay like that, me inside him, for some minutes.  
Then I roll apart from him, staring at the ceiling with a stupid smile on my face.  
He comes closer and I immediately open my arm to make him more comfortable. To be there with him, to have him this close, the unmistakable smell of sex intoxicating the air, it all seems to be so perfect right now.

I turn toward him and look him in the eye. He seems almost shy now, a completely different person from the hot mess he was a couple of minutes ago. I look at him and can’t help smiling. God, I love him.

“God, I love you.”

Did I say it out loud? Shit. I can feel him tensing for a moment and I think I ruined everything. But I haven’t even the time to start panicking cause his lips are on mine again. Reassuring. Calming. 

“You’re idiot.”

I smile at his funny english. 16 years and I still can’t get used to it.  
Still I raise an eyebrow and ask why.

“I love you too, no? So long I can’t remember.”

Now I’m serious again. He does love me. He does. Shit. That’s so real now that it has been spoken into existence that its weight is suffocating. He loves me. I love him.  
I smile.

“I knew it”

“You knew I love you?”

“I knew the love I was feeling was too strong to be one-sided.”

He smiles. He kisses me.  
The he smiles again.

I may be an idiot, as he says. But I’m a madly in love idiot. And in this moment, I’m a very happy idiot.


End file.
